


Our Sugarcane Song

by BadRomantic



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Aaron Burr is Tired, Aaron is a widow, Christmas AU, Everybody is tired of not knowing who's who, Hercules starts out as a dog for the first chapter and a little bit of the second one, Lafayette and Madison are trying to help, M/M, Mild pessimism, Sort of a knock-off of Santa Paws, Thomas and Alex are friends but still retain their personality and clashes, but only the part about the good boys, everybody has a mutual agreement that if thomas put his hair up he would be more attractive, he's sad, wiggly boy Hercules
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadRomantic/pseuds/BadRomantic
Summary: Alexander Hamilton is an Elf who's tired of the Christmas life.Aaron Burr's desperate to find his holiday cheer.





	1. Chapter 1

When the sun flooded through his bedroom window, Aaron realized that he had stayed awake the entire night. A tired, pained sigh left his lips.

His bed was too cold. His sheets were painfully empty. He was exhausted, but he was also grateful that he didn’t sleep a wink that night. He knew that if he did, he'd miss a vital moment to mourn. A moment of grief that deserved to be heard. For five years, Aaron Burr had paid respect to this pull in his heart; the pull to grieve over his loss and the terrible ache in his chest that never dulled.

Six years ago, he spent his last true Christmas alone. Nothing that holiday could have prepared him for the striking death of his wife, nor the pain of knowing that she would never share another day with him. However, Aaron felt like he was coping strong enough to the point where he could finally say _Merry Christmas_ and not have a tremor in his voice or a sob on his tongue. 

And as much as he willed himself to try, he couldn't find the emotions he used to have with that simple saying. It used to bring him light, a burst of happiness knowing he sent his love and wishes to a total stranger or a close friend.

Now? It almost felt like a curse.

Not to the person he wished Happy Holidays too, of course. It was a curse to himself. It was a bitter reminder that no matter what he did, he’d never have another Christmas that brought joy to his heart and made his bed feel less empty. He was stuck in an endless cycle of drowning pain.

And Aaron thought that was okay. If he can't enjoy Christmas the same way anymore, that's his destiny and he deems it acceptable. 

He also deems himself worthy of a hot shower and warm clothes to start himself off for the day of work.

 

 

As Aaron opened his work building’s door, he fought the urge to scrunch up his face at the bright decorations around the walls and ceiling. Gold tinsel, huge plastic Christmas ornaments hanging from the ceiling, and a Santa on every wall saying the same, heart-warming; _Ho Ho Ho!_

 _Ho-Ho-Horrible,_ Aaron thought bitterly, sulking as quickly as possible through the blurry Christmas lights that decorated the halls. He didn't want to ruin his eyes by the overzealous amount of glitter today, No Thank You.

Aaron expertly took the shortest route to his office. He knew that the sooner he arrived there, the better for him and everybody around. He doesn't want to ruin their holiday cheer; he's already known for being the _Grinch_ _of_ _Christmas_ around the office. People would ignore him around this time anyway.

 _"Hey Aaron!"_ Or maybe not.

Burr stopped in his tracks and turned his head, lifting a brow when he realized it was James Madison _(the secretary to George Washington, the company's CEO)_  and Gilbert Lafayette _(the chairman of the company)_  who were calling him over.

"Good morning," Aaron greeted simply, watching Madison give a short nod and Lafayette offer his most flattering grin.

 _Here it comes,_ Burr thought as he braced himself.

"We were thinking about throwing a party for Christmas. Y'know, We'd love if you joined?" Lafayette fiddled with his hands, "I know being alone for the holidays is tough and all and—"

"Will you come to our Christmas party?" Madison cut in, obviously sensing Aaron's tension as Lafayette continued, "It's going to be invite-only and we swear: _no_ _funny_ _business_."

"As tempting as it sounds,” Aaron forced a smile, “I cannot."

"Not even for an hour?" Lafayette asked. His face had already began drooping in his disappointment, however.

"M'not... _ready_." Aaron mumbled, keeping his voice as quiet as possible. He didn’t want to know what would happen if anyone— God forbid, George Washington _himself!_ — overheard.

"It's been five years, Aaron." Madison said just as softly, a sympathetic tone to his words, “Let us help. We’re friends. We want to—“ Aaron sensed his hand coming up to his shoulder, probably going to squeeze him in attempt to console him, and he would not have it.

"Thank you, gentlemen, but I _must_ be going to my office. Work to attend and all." Aaron zipped around them, doubling his walking speeds to reach his destination faster.

”But— Aaron, wait!” Lafayette called after him, but it fell on deaf ears.

* * *

 _This is so boring,_ Alexander thought as he lazily dragged his finely-tipped paint brush down a wooden box side.

A red streak was left in his paint brushes stroke, although by now Alexander just referred to the colour as _that dumb shade my Boss keeps wearing every day of every year._  

His upper lip tugged in disgust as he expertly followed the patterns set for him by the elf at the station before his. He was tired of sitting in this stupid chair all day. He was especially tired of the way his eyes would lose their focus from pure _boredom_ and how his brain would blank out from his lack of interest in his task.

Despite what the humans liked to insist on, being an elf was lame. They always got bored, half the people wanted to be anything but a toy maker, and the other half were just trying to make their way through life without running into any polar bears.

Alexander Hamilton thought that being an elf was the most mundane thing in the world. In fact, he would rather be a snowman then be the person painting toy boxes that will end up in the trashcan at the end of the month.

But nobody really asks what an elf wants for Christmas, do they?

"My brain is going to be full of sugar bees by the time I get this done," John, his best friend, whined from beside him. Alexander scoffed at the idea, imagining the evil creations of sugar buzzing around his in his head.

 _Why do we even make those?_ Alexander asked himself, another painful question that was always left unanswered. He hated unanawered questions.

"As if your brain isn't already full of sugar bees." Snarked the elf across from Alexander and John. 

Alexander raised his eyes from the box to glare icicles at Thomas Jefferson, his frienemy (he learned word that in a letter from a girl in Texas!)

Thomas returned the icy glare, but the curly hair in front of his face made it seem less threatening. Hamilton never understood why the elf couldn't just put his hair back into a ponytail, he'd look nicer with it. Thomas _had_ stated in the past that he liked his hair down and that was that, but Alexander always thought he could change his mind.

"Nobody asked for your opinion." He said flatly.

Thomas smirked, "I did a free service. Your paint is dripping."

Alexander rushed to look down, bristling in anger when he realized his paint was in fact dripping _all over_ his carefully coloured box. 

"Saint Nic's Beard!" He snapped, letting go of the paint brush and gripping his hair, "I'm going to lose my _mind_ if I'm here any longer."

"You say that everyday." John said calmly, taking the time to finish his last stroke, set his paint brush down, and turn to him.

"And everyday, he's right. He’s getting more insane every day." Thomas mumbled, not stopping his work and instead leaning closer to his box and carefully lining up the tip of his brush. Alexander felt like he was going to explode when he realized that he recognized the movements of Thomas's hand and knew exactly what he was colouring in.

"I need a break." Alex gritted, "Need some time off."

"Don't we all?" John sighed softly, shaking his head and raising a comforting hand to pat his friends back. 

"Let's go walk around or something." Thomas peered up at them, “I wouldn’t mind a second or two away.”

”I need more than a second.” Alexander bit, lifting a row as he watched Thomas set down his brush and rubbed his hands clean on his working apron. 

He perked when he saw Thomas dip his fingers into his paint and smear it all over his _actual_ _sweater_.

Thomas stood up, making a show of looking down at himself with disgust and gave a loud, obnoxious sigh, "Not _again!_ All over my good shirt!"

He turned to their manager, flagging him down and looking furious as he did so.

Alexander made sure not to snicker as Thomas crossed his arms and pursed his lips in overexagerated annoyance. He really liked watching Thomas flaunt off his acting abilities— especially when it had to do with their manager.

 _Speaking_ _of_ _the_ _Devil!_

Their manager, a large hound with floppy ears and a great white fluffy coat, strolled closer and halted in front of Thomas, raising his head high before speaking.

"You've gotten yourself dirty. Again."

"Yes, Hercules, I can see that."

"How convenient."

"What are you insinuating?"

Alexander zoned them out, instead looking to John and deciding to start quiet conversation, "Don't you think it's weird we're the only group of civilization that lets _dogs_ be managers...?"

John shrugged before shaking his head. "No, I think that makes us interesting."

"I think it makes us dumb."

"Oh, so do I." Hercules's voice suddenly pipped up. Alexander snapped his head to face to his manager, a sudden guilt flooding him.

"We would be much better equipped if we had cats around here. They're mean and don't like slackers. That's probably why they're affiliated with Halloween." Hercules continued, his tail wagging suddenly.

 _Oh, thank Claus,_  Alexander thought in relief, _Hercules didn't take offense._

"What's Halloween?" He asked, much more calm now that he knew Hercules had taken no offense to his tease.

"Nasty holiday," Hercules's wet nose sniffed, "would rather suck on black licorice than ever celebrate it."

"Can we go now?" Thomas asked, barging into the conversation, "I want to go stroll around."

Hercules's head swung to face the elf, "I thought you wanted to clean your shirt?"

"That's what I said."

"No it isn't!" Hercules's tail wagged and ears perked despite his tough tone. His wet nose sniffed a few times before he faced towards Alexander and John.

Alexander straightened his back, smiling at Hercules as his eyes shined happily. "Get out of here, you three. Come back in fifteen minutes, or else I have to tell Santa about your absence."

"Yes sir!" John piped up beside Alexander. He smiled at the jump in Laurens's voice, making a mental note to tease him about it later. He rushed to scurry away, leading his group from the painting station of the toy shop. 

 _Yes, finally!_ Alexander thought happily. He felt better just being away from his seat. 

"We should grab something to eat." Thomas suggested, practically barging past Alexander to lead the group.

"Hey!" Alexander exclaimed, rushing to push past him and take the lead once again. "I'm the one deciding—“

He heard John gasp and Thomas's laugh before he registered the fact that he had tripped over Thomas’s foot. He landed flat against the ground, feeling pain shoot up his nose. He rolled over, rushing to hold his nose and sneered angrily at the taller elf. _"You polar-ass!"_

"Oopsies." Thomas said innocently.

"Are you okay?" John asked, kneeling down beside Alexander and brushing off his shoulders. Alex shrugged him off, jumping up on his feet and lunging forward without a second thought.

He shoved Thomas back, towards the long and overly large conveyer belt used to take unwrapped gifts to the _Christmas_ _Wrapper_ _3000_. Alexander felt his arms being grabbed and pinned behind his back, but he didn't fight back against it. He knew John was just trying to keep him from actually throwing a fist at Thomas. That shove felt pretty good, anyway.

"Peppermint-Patties, you two!" John groaned, pulling Alexander away and letting go of his arms. He turned to face him, sticking out his tongue at John’s indignant look.

"Thomas started it!"

"Guys?—“

"Alex, that wouldn't work on Santa why would it work on me?"

_"—Guys!—"_

"Because you aren't Santa, Jack."

"—GUYS!"

Alexander snapped his eyes to Thomas, ready to yell at him to _shut_ _up,_ but realized that he, not only wasn't standing where he had originally shoved him, but was being _dragged_ by the belt of the conveyer.

A jolt of panic rushed him, along with a cry of shock. John was already running to Thomas's aid, so Alexander followed.

He wouldn’t want to miss the action, after all.”

"My sweater’s stuck!" Thomas started, twisting a bit in place to try and wiggle his way off of the belt. He was laying flat on his back, being dragged with the bottoms of his feet scraping the floor desperately.

If Alexander wasn’t worried that his friend was going to be wrapped up, he would have had the time to be jealous about Thomas’s sheer leg length.

Okay fine, he was still jealous over it.

"Lemme pull you off." John suggested, reaching out, but before he could grab Thomas, Alexander held John's wrist first and stared mischievously at Thomas.

”Alexander—?” Thomas’s face paled.

"I get to decide where we eat," Alexander stated.

"Hamilton, I swear to Santa himself that if you're trying to bargain with me—“

"You can go ahead and get gift wrapped for all I care."

"Okay! You get to decide!"

"And you have to do gold lining for me!" Alexander added to test his luck. Lining the toys with gold was always a special thing they did for the best children, but man did he hate it.

"OKAY! Please, just _help_ me!"

"Guys...!"

"You gotta tell Santa that I'm the best elf, too!"

"Guys!"

"No! Suck on a sugarcane!"

"Okay, ain't helpin' ya,"

"GUYS." John's voice broke throug their argueing. Alexander turned his head momentarily to look at his friend, then jerked his attention back to Thomas when he heard the elf start to scream.

Hamilton started screaming himself when he realized that the elf’s upper body was disappearing into the wrapping machine.

 _"ALEX—_ ALEX!" Thomas's voice raised two octaves.

"Hold on!" Hamilton lunged forward, grabbing onto Thomas's leg when he realized it was being put into the machine diagonally. He held on as tightly as possible, hearing John yell about getting help.

And then his hand slipped. 

"...Oh no." He said quietly, looking at his hands for a small moment before rushing to the other side of the machine. 

Thomas better be okay or else he's going to be in so much trouble! Although, Alexander was sure that he was going to be in even more trouble if Thomas _did_ survive...

He shook the thought out of his head, tensing up when he saw a long, human-shaped package with strawberry shortcake wrapping paper come out. Alexander realized the machine must have recognized him as a feminine bike of some sort; which was pretty hilarious in itself and normally, he would have found time to laugh about it, but right now he needed to make sure that his co-worker wasn't dead.

He quickly moved forward, reaching out to touch where he assumed Thomas's chest was.

"Uh— Tom...? If you’re not dead... you can pick where we eat!”

It was as if his voice triggered a hurricane. Thomas’s hands tore through the wrapping paper and roughly grabbed Alexander’s shoulder and the collar of his shirt.

He screamed in terror, stumbling backwards a bit and hauled Thomas along with him. The elf's legs tore through the wrapping paper too, and as he broke a hole through the wrapping on his head, Alexander's chest tightened in a minor panic at the fury in Thomas’s eyes.

"YOU."

"Okay, that... that _might_ have been my fault..."

"POLAR-ASS."

And Alexander found himself wrestling with Thomas on the floor, frantically avoiding having his hair pulled or the wrapping paper cut his hand. Thomas most certainly was exerting all of his energy in the tousle, because Hamilton was not familiar with having to use actual energy to fight the guy off of him when they had past wrestling matches. He yelped when he was pinned on his back, hurriedly bringing his arms to shield his face from the elf's fist.

"What in Christmas's name are you two doing?" Hollered a familiar, strict tone. 

He and Thomas froze, slowly looking to the direction of the voice. Alexander could feel Thomas shrink against him when they realized it was Santa standing a few feet from them, John at his side looking like he was going to explode with anger and concern.

"Um... practicing our..." Thomas started awkwardly.

"Gift wrapping." Alexander finished, hoping that the fake sincerity was showing through his eyes.

"Ho, ho, ho- _larious_." Santa said, lifting a brow and crossing his arms, "You two in my office. _Now."_


	2. Chapter 2

Alexander's stomach was twisting. His anxiety was shy rocketing. And yet... he couldn't stop himself from shoving and pinching Thomas as they sulked behind Santa, heading to his office and sneering at each other. Thomas would jab into his side, and Alexander would retaliate by shoving him just hard enough to make him lose his balance. Thomas's eyes were still fiery and full of rage, but Alexander knew that Santa being around was the only thing keeping him away. Which was fine by him, he did not want to get pummeled to death.

 _I got to apologize later,_ Alexander noted, gritting his teeth in pain when Thomas's leather snow-boots crunched his toes. 

"Alright," He hissed lowly, "you win."

Thomas's face gave no hint of satisfaction to the victory. Alexander's stomach knotted up even worst, but he decided that it was in Thomas's right to still be furious. Getting wrapped wasn't exactly the best way to spend their "break".

 _I hope Hercules doesn't get in trouble,_ Hamilton thought, suddenly peering around. _Was John in trouble?_

He didn't get enough time to decide. Santa opened his office door, allowing Thomas and Alexander in first.

No matter how many times he walked in here, the room was always overwhelming. It smelt of pine trees and, if he took even the shortest of a breath, he could taste candycanes, and there were shelves of toys. He knew that each toy signified a year. A year of Christmas and joy. Alexander's stomach churned when he recognized the few toys he made the past few years on the shelf, wondering if they were really worth the work of both making and putting up on a shelf to be memorialized.

"Take a seat, you two." Santa hummed, motioning along to the chairs made out of preserved candy materials. The chair legs and back spines were made from large red licorice, the seat being a hard-candy red mint with a white swirl, everything else being an assortment of small suckers and chips of candy bars. Alexander wrinkled his nose in dislike when he sat down, reminded with how much he hated candies. The sugar always made him hyper, and he didn't like it when he was hyper. He ended up doing dumb stuff.

"Smells like a reindeer threw up," Thomas whispered to him, seemingly trying to make light conversation.

Alexander couldn't begin to describe his relief. "I bet it was Dancer Jr." Thomas chuckled, and Hamilton's shoulders relaxed. Good, the elf wasn't too mad at him.

Thomas and Alexander's conversation was short lived, however, because as Santa made his way around the sugary desk and sat in his own comfortable chair, his eyes landed on Thomas with a hint of warmth. Hamilton ignored the jealousy in his stomach, watching Santa carefully. His dark skin and bright cheeks were too welcoming for him to be truly scared for what he was going to say, but that didn't stop him from having the small voice in the back of his mind tell him that Santa was going to strip away his duty as an elf and make him work someplace else.

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Alexander's palms felt sweaty and he found himself tugging at the loose strings of his sweater. He noticed Santa's eyes trail towards him and he rushed to advert his gaze at the desk. He wasn't sure if the look was of warmth like he gave to Thomas or of some other emotion. He knows he's expected to talk. He knows he needs to speak up, because he's always the one to do so, but it's hard. It's harder to be himself in front of someone he wants to impress.

"It wasn't intentional."

Alexander's head raised and turned to Thomas, surprised by his co-workers statement. It wasn't?

"He and I were teasing each other. I tripped and got stuck on the conveyer." Thomas's voice was smooth, but Alexander could notice his foots tapping. He was nervous. Nervous about lying.

"I see." Santa's voice gave no sign that he knew of the lie. "Well, that's great, because it helps make this meeting shorter then it needs to be."

"It does?" Alexander asked, looking back to Santa and raising a brow.

"By Saint Nic's beard, it does," Alexander fought himself on rolling his eyes, who uses their own name when they're saying blasphemy? "I have a mission for you two."

"A mission." Thomas said quietly, as if he words were as large as the world to him.

"Mhm." Santa's eyes trailed back to Thomas. Alexander tried to fight off his jealousy when they held each others eyes, seemingly exchanging words that was beyond him. He hated the subtle reminders about how much Santa focused on Thomas, how he seemed to be a little more special to Santa compared to the other hard working elves. Although, Hamilton had to remind himself that Santa did seem overly fond of him too. 

 _Sure doesn't feel like it right now,_ Alexander thought to himself, fidgeting in his spot before breaking the short-lived silence, "What's the mission?"

Santa laughed, presumably from Alexander's inability to retain his patience, and leaned back in his chair. "I'm having a particularly hard time appeasing a certain child in New York."

"You want us to go to help a kid?" "You want us to leave Christmas Town?!"

Alexander and Thomas shared a glance with each other, and Alexander noticed Thomas's clear disapproval for not being more excited about helping a kid versus leaving home. Hamilton raised his nose in response, turning back to Santa and beginning to take control of the conversation.

"You want us to help some brat in the real world?" He said excitedly, practically leaning off of his chair. Leaving Christmas Town? Being in the real world? Actually seeing real, normal people? He felt like his heart was soaring.

"Well he's not a _brat,_ per-say," Santa's mouth tilted into a crooked smile.

"If he's bad enough for Santa to send out his coolest elf and Thomas, he's for sure a brat." Alexander shook his head, disregarding Santa's input on the matter.

"Hey," Thomas whined, pulling a pout on not being included for the 'coolest elf'.

"He's having a hard time finding Christmas in himself. I was hoping you two, with the help of a few others, would be able to help him find it again." Santa straightened up and set his arms on the table, "He's... stubborn."

"Most kids are." Thomas said cautiously, furrowing his eyebrows, "How're we gonna help?"

"That's up to you." 

"Awesome!" Alexander exclaimed, grinning to himself, then quickly deflated. "Wait... you said a few others."

"Nothing goes by you, Hamilton," Santa's eyes glittered, "I want you to take Hercules and Laurens, if you would. I feel like they'd find an adventure there. Really, I was just going to send Thomas, but you three have matters there as well."

"Matters?" Alexander repeated, his curiosity glowing. 

"Ones I am not aloud to elaborate on. Now please, I would enjoy it if you two left quickly."

"You don't have to ask me twice! I'll go get Hercules and John," Alexander said, hopping up and already heading towards the door. He stopped for a moment, looking back to see if Thomas would follow him. He lifted a brow out of confusion, watching as Thomas stared after him and looked anywhere but his face. _Was he still upset?_

"I'm gonna stay for a second... wanna find out how we're getting there." 

"Okay... see you, weirdo." Alexander said, trying to lighten the mood before turning away and shutting the door behind him.

He'll ask him about it later. Right now, he wants to go find John and get excited. He's leaving. He's finally leaving this boring, bland, basic world and being introduced into the wonderful world of... normal functioning society. 

When he spotted John, he practically threw himself at his friend. He ignored John's loud exclaim of surprise, and the fumbled up mess of words he was trying to express.

"I have such great news!" Hamilton said, letting go of John and feeling his excitement deflate when he got the look of pure frustration on his friends face.

"What happened? I just got a glimpse of you guys when you left-- is Thomas okay? How can you be so dumb?" John gave a shove to Hamilton's shoulder, but Alexander decided that it was OK because John did deserve this bit of frustration. 

"Thomas got out alive, and he covered saying it was just teasing and he tripped, but _dude!"_ Alexander's voice jumped in pitch, "We get to see the real world!"

"What?" John's face scrunched up with confusion. 

"Santa gave us all a mission, to help a kid or something like Christmas again, but we get to go outside! We get to leave!"

"We-- You, Thomas, and I?" John asked, shoulders dropping. Alexander's excitement seemed to triple in amounts at the shocked look on his friend's face. John must be happy too! 

"Yeah! Well, Hercules comes too, but we get to go!" 

He waited for his friend to jump up and down with joy, to exclaim about how great it was to finally be free from the boring work of painting boxes, but John instead stared at him for a long time and clenched his jaw. Alexander's excitement was slowly wilting, but he refused to pretend like he was disappointed by his friend's reaction.

"Isn't that great?" Alexander pressed.

"... I... I don't think I can go." John said slowly, eyes adverting away and staring at his shoes. 

"Wh-What?" 

"I'm... It's out _there,_ Alexander. I don't know how to even act outside of here, all I know how to do is make toys." John's voice sounded defeated, "Most elves want to stay here because they know it's safe."

"But do you...?" Hamilton asked, holding onto his friend's shoulders, "Do you want to be here just because it's _safe?"_

John's eyes danced across the floor, looking like he was going from one side to the next, trying to decide which road was best for him. "... No. No, I don't want to be... here because it's safe."

"Then come with us!" Alexander insisted, smiling when John lifted his gaze, "Let's have an adventure together. Let's go see what's out there."

"... Some brat who doesn't believe in Christmas," Laurens joke, cracking a small smile. 

"Absolutely. Some bratty kid who didn't get the bike he asked for." Alexander laughed.

"Well... not _exactly_ a bratty kid." 

Alexander and John turned their heads, perking up in surprise when they saw Thomas and another man walking towards them. The man next to Thomas looked out of place next to him-- he was tall, broad shouldered, and had a wide chest. His squared jaw had hints of a beard growing and his sweater was way too tight. Alexander didn't recall ever seeing this specific type of elf around, though couldn't help himself as he stared at his face and admired the features he had. Dark skin, dark eyes, full lips, rounded nose.

"Who's the new friend of yours?" Alexander teased, openly looking the man down and catching his eyes. The man simply winked back at him, which was to Alexander's delight.

"Stop." Thomas made a face of disgust, "It's Hercules you idiot."

"Oh-- what?!" Alexander shook his head, doing another glance over of the man, "Hercules?"

"Yeah! Don't I look cool? I think Santa did a pretty polar job here," Hercules said, opening his arms wide and making a show of raising them and dropping them back to his sides, "You guys walk funny. Took me a bit to get used to it."

"Ew, I thought you were hot," Alexander made a face.

"I am!" Hercules smirked playfully, body starting to wiggle, "When are we leaving?"

"Um-- I dunno," Alexander looked to Thomas out of confusion, "When are we leaving?"

"As far as I know, Santa has already booked us an apartment and gotten us clothes." Thomas glanced at Hercules, "And a babysitter. So... we could leave as soon as you all feel ready."

"I'm ready." Alexander said quickly, heart thumping in his chest. Yes. He wants to leave now.

"Um-- Not tryna... hold the show, but we're still technically on break. Who's doing our jobs?" John's voice came out quiet, which was so unlike him. Hamilton turned to his friend, noticing the red in his cheeks. He lifted a brow, following his gaze and noticed that it was locked in on Hercules.

 _Ooh,_ Alexander thought, a smirk rising up on his face.

"I've set three other elves to do your spot and Lee is going to do my job until we come back." Hercules said matter-of-factly, body still moving in an awkward way.

"What are you doing?" Alexander asked.

"I'm excited." Hercules supplied.

"Stop... it. Stop how you're moving. Quit wiggling."

"I cant. I'm happy. I'm going to be like this for the rest of the time we're together."

Alexander decided that if the worst constant of this adventure was Hercules's weird way of wagging, he could deal with it. "So, you said we weren't dealing with a normal bratty kid?"

Thomas's face hardened, "We're dealing with a man named Aaron Burr."

"Ew. What does Christmas have to do with adults?" Alexander asked, scrunching up his face and ignoring the look of surprise from Hercules.

"Christmas has to do with everybody! It's the time of cheer-- you know how often those people are grumpy and mean?" Hercules started, looking wounded at Alexander's statement, "Even adults deserve a season of glee."

Hamilton decided not to say anything else, simply because he didn't like the way Hercules's eyes widened sadly. He instead offered an apologetic nod and a half-assed smile, then turned back to Thomas for further explanation. He watched as Thomas shifted on his feet, looking uncomfortable about putting himself in the middle of whatever drama this _'Aaron Burr'_ was dealing with.

"His wife died on Christmas Eve."


	3. Chapter 3

Thomas never felt more nervous in his life. His head was spinning, he didn't sleep at all last night, and he couldn't stop playing with the curls of his hair. He didn't want to mess up this mission. He wanted to finish it with such accuracy that Santa wouldn't be anything but impressed. 

It's been a full year since Santa had brought him in to talk, one-on-one, about what he still referred to as 'classic Santa matters.'

_"Thomas! It's so nice to see you." Santa's eyes were so bright, gleaming happily at the elf._

_"It's nice to see you too, Santa." Thomas offered a cocky grin, "It's always a pleasure for the elves. You know, a confidence booster 'n' all."_

_"Ah, then I suppose I should see you less. Your confidence has done nothing but double these few years."_

_"Christmas is becoming more than just a job, I feel."_

_Thomas had glanced aside when Santa stared at him with an ever-growing warmth. He wasn't sure what to make of the situation, the way they bantered so easily. Most elves only saw Santa once or twice formally, and he's seen him at least eight times in the past two weeks. Whether it be because Santa wants to personally eat dinner with him or just chat on their free time._

_Alexander had begun to notice the new favouritism. As much as Thomas liked finally being better at something than Hamilton-- even if it was just getting affection from the boss himself-- he didn't like how isolating it felt. Like he had to overwork himself._ _Then again, he does overwork himself._

_Christmas felt like his responsibility. Like he needed to fix and make up any mistakes, help any child who begged for Santa's help in their letter. He sometimes snuck into the letter department, reading some of the toys on children's lists and making his own special toys on his free time to help accommodate for their asking._

_A kid wanted a special wooden toy dog? Thomas learned how to whisk.  
_

_A little girl wanted a bunny that glowed in the dark? He demanded there be a special type of fabric made._

_A boy wanted to have a unique, one-of-a-kind Pokemon hat? He learned how to stitch and sew._

_Thomas just couldn't bare to let a Christmas be ruined._

_Maybe that's why Santa wanted him here. He's probably going to ask Thomas to chill out, take a breath of fresh air and drink some hot chocolate._

_"I'm more than happy you feel that way, Thomas."_

_Thomas let his smirk relax into a confused smile, "What for?"_

_"Makes this all the more easier." Santa leaned back, taking a paper out from his desk and pushing it forward._

_Thomas lifted a brow, looking at the paper and read through it. Santa's_ last _Christmas Bill._

_Jefferson looked up with a fit of horror in his chest, smile dropping. "You're retiring?"_

_"Keep reading, Thomas."_

_He hesitated, but followed the instructions._

And it is with utter satisfaction and full belly that I promote elf Thomas Peter Jefferson be named the new Santa.

_"I can't." Thomas said quickly, looking up. He could feel the excitement in his chest, but he wasn't sure about it. What if it was just his emotions trying to figure out what he wanted? Was he happy? Was he scared? How would being Santa even work out for him?_

_"You can." Santa chuckled as if that was the easiest question imaginable._

_"But-" Thomas felt a rising guilt, wondering why he couldn't think of any reason he_ shouldn't _be Santa. Was that his ambition blinding him?_

_"This year will be my last." Santa said, suddenly looking distant, "I cannot keep working this old suit, son. Dry cleaning isn't free."_

_"How... do you know I can do it?" Thomas asked slowly, realizing he was still holding onto the paper given to him._

_Santa turned back to him, smiling once again, "Well, that's easy. I feel it in my belly."_

He feels it. In his stomach. Thomas groaned quietly to himself, sitting down on a chair and dropping his head into his hands. All Thomas felt in his stomach was anxiety.

He looked up from his hands, looking to Alexander and John on the floor of their two bed apartment. They had insisted on watching a movie before bed, but as Thomas had predicted, they fell asleep half way into it. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and contemplating how the next day's morning would go for them.

It was their first day at the business Aaron worked at. They had three days to settle into their apartment, and that in itself was awful. Every time Thomas tried to take them to the mall, they always got side tracked and visited absolutely every place they could. As much as Thomas enjoyed giving into curiosity, he was tired of walking into every H&R Block building they passed.

 _Today will be okay,_ Thomas insisted to himself, _Today we will meet Aaron, talk to him, and become friends. Simple as that._

... Thomas really hopes he had the same intuition as Santa does.

* * *

Aaron decided not to drive to work today. He woke up early enough, he could risk taking a walk to work. It wasn't too chilly anyway, his coat helped keep him warm. He tucked his hands into his pockets, clenching them into fists to help get his blood running. He hoped that the winter wouldn't get worst. He hoped that he'd be able to walk more often. It helped him clear his mind and relax. Helped him get his mind off how quiet the house was.

As Burr strolled down the side walk, he noticed the plastic Santa's and Reindeer's on each light post. He wondered what others felt when they saw it. Were they amused? Mildly annoyed? Confused? He wondered why he felt a vagueness towards it. He didn't know what to make of the holiday spirit-- maybe he could lie to himself and say it was because he thought it was too early into the season.

That was it. He didn't feel much because of how early into the season it was.

Burr unclenched his fists, raising a hand up to rub at his cheek and warm up the skin. His heart yearned. He wanted to skip down the street, he wanted to smile happily at every person he passed, and he wanted to wave at everybody and cheerfully greet them when they took notice of him. He wanted to do a cliche run through of Christmas tunes. He wanted to sing his heart out with someone beside him, warm and welcoming. He wanted _her._ Aaron rushed to rub at his eyes, wiping away the slight wetness and shoving his hand back into his coat. He'll blame the redness in his face on the cold. 

Once he had reached his work building, he scraped the snow off of his boots and took off his coat, walking collectively to his office. Thankfully, nobody seemed to be in as early as he was today. 

 _I'm only fifteen minutes ahead of schedule,_ Aaron thought, _Where could everybody be?_

He decided not to bother himself with what others were doing and instead get a headstart on his work. He took the familiar turn down to the main hallways, almost faltering in his steps when he noticed a familiar man a few feet down the hallway. 

 _Huh,_ Burr thought, eyeing Lafayette curiously, _since when did he let his hair down?_

"Morning," Burr said, curious as to if Lafayette would be embarrassed to catching him staring at a door or if he'd go off on his usual tangent of how he hated people sneaking up on him. He stopped, allowing Lafayette time to turn and face him. The slight flash of shock covered his face, but Laf suddenly smirked and put his hands on his hips.

_Interesting._

"Well, that was easier than I thought it was gonna be!" Laf' said, shaking his head.

_What's up with the new voice?_

Aaron found it weird to watch his curls bounce and move freely. "Well you're obviously planning something and I'm not going to be apart of it. Goodbye." He started to walk around Lafayette, pausing when the man made a quick motion to step in front of him, accompanied by a flail of his arms.

"Wait!" Lafayette's smirk vanished, suddenly becoming a worrisome frown, "I've gotta-- uh, _wanna_ talk to you."

"I'm not going to your party." "Party--?" "Yeah, that. Check absent for Aaron Burr." "What? No, Mr. Burr, listen-"

Aaron scrunched up his face in dislike, "Mr. Burr?" Since when was Lafayette on a last name basis with him?

"What?" Laf's face went back to playful, "Don't like the last name?"

"I've got work to do, Lafayette. I'll see you later." Aaron said, making his voice stern and forced his way past the man.

_What a freaking weirdo._

**. . .**

As Burr started on his third assignment, he felt a sharp vibration in his pocket. His eyes instinctively looked to his computer's clock, relief flooding him when he realized it was lunch break. Good. He wanted time to relax and let his brain auto-pilot. He stood up from his desk, plucking up his coat from his chair and started to walk out. Burr pulled his phone out of his pocket to halt the vibrations, eyeing his lock screen for a little while before he dared to move away.

It was Theodosia in her summer wear, making a face at him and half-way into raising her hand to block the camera. His heart tightened, but he didn't mind it. Seeing her face helped him. He let his body move through the hallway, not paying much attention as he studied the curls of her hair and the way the light illuminated her eyes and face. She looked too beautiful for the world. Maybe she _was_ too beautiful for the world. 

Aaron's lip pulled into a frown and he raised a hand to rub at his eyes. He quickly learned to regret his decision, because he ended up slamming into a broad chest and having his fist basically punch into his eye socket. Burr hissed out of pain and frustration, jerking backwards and holding his eye while he glared at the man in front of him. Lafayette.

"Wow, you almost walked right through me." Lafayette said, back to his natural voice. Aaron noticed that his hair was up too. 

"No kidding. I hit my eye." Aaron said not-so-nicely, pulling his hand away from his face. "As if this morning wasn't enough."

"This morning?" Lafayette mumbled, lifting a brow. "What happened?"

"You. You happened." Aaron matched Lafayette's facial expression.

"I wasn't here until this afternoon?" Laf's face contorted for a second, then jolted in surprise, "Oh. Oh you mean _that_ guy. He was here this mornin'?"

"Who's _'that'_ guy?" Burr frowned.

"That's what I was tryna ask you about before you so rudely walked into me," Lafayette said pointedly, "we got some newbies. George told me to put them in your care." 

Aaron's face scrunched up with dislike, "Plural? I'm dealing with two people?" "Four." "Four?!"

"Don't worry, you just need to check on them every-so-often and maybe look through their coding if they ask you to. They're for the new website we're having-- George said you had the credentials." Lafayette said, eyeing Aaron pointedly, as if testing him to see if he'd go back on his resumé. Aaron was smarter than that.

"Yeah, I did say that." He said flatly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

"Good. Don't worry, they said they know what they're doing." Lafayette paused for a moment, then mumbled, "They're a little weird."

"How so...?" Aaron keep a neutral face.

"One of em looks like Madison! I thought he was James at first. That's how I found out about the other guy that looks like me, to be honest. James said he saw him and thought it was me."

"There's two of both of you? Ugh. I'll make them wear bracelets." Aaron rolled his eyes. "What about the other two?"

"They're... okay." Lafayette's eyes widened, staring behind Aaron as he spoke with fake casualness. Aaron followed his gaze, landing his eyes on a gentlemen he was sure was one of the newbies hired. He looked frail and his hair looked like it was blown dry by a tornado, and was staring at them with a look of disgust. He decided to disregard the frizz of the hair and instead turned back to Gilbert, feeling the unnamed man's eyes on the back of his head.

"I'm going to go to lunch." His voice came out flatter than he'd like, and the slight flicker of surprise in Lafayette's eyes told him that he wasn't expecting Aaron's sudden demeanor drop. He kicked himself, walking around Lafayette and deciding that he'd apologize later. He didn't mean to sound crude about it. Maybe he just felt on edge about being forced into the position of taking care of four new workers.

 _Painful and unnecessary,_ Aaron thought, suddenly bitter about his slight exaggeration on his resumé. 

* * *

Alexander was not the happiest elf on planet earth right now. He was basically ordered by Thomas (Who put him in charge, anyway?) to find Aaron Burr, whoever that may be, and not let him out of his sight. Which seemed simple in itself, but at the same time... Thomas didn't even give him a picture to go off of. At least Santa had the decency to give a description of who they were after-- but it almost seemed like that description fit everybody he passed. 

_Lanky, never smiling, dark skinned, gray-brown eyes._

_Who even has gray-brown eyes?_ Alexander had thought angrily, bristling to himself, _Nobody._

And he almost missed his target through his bickering.

He was standing in an unfamiliar hallway, pulling and scratching at his clothes to try and get used to the uncomfortably smooth fabric. He liked his Christmas sweaters over human work clothes, but he supposed it was a situation he would just need to deal with. It also didn't help that almost every man he dealt with had the same attire on. The only thing holding him back from assuming everybody was Aaron Burr was the fact that they all smiled at him. And honestly, even those smiles looked dead and forced. But, he did eventually find who he believed to be Aaron.

He was standing in another boring hallway, staring at the mundane memos on a board that looked like it was rotting from the corners. He had decided that was none of his business, however, and instead searched the memos for the name he was trying to find a face to. Maybe they had a room number on it, something about Aaron that could lead him in the right direction. And as he was trying to read, a man walked past him, glued to his phone.

Alexander made a note to himself to never buy a phone in his life. Everybody here seems too infatuated with it-- and they often spoke into the dastardly thing. Who were they talking to? How were they communicating that way? Alexander suspected that the society outside the North Pole had a dark magic infestation that he would surely bring up to Santa. Not because he cared, but maybe he could leave the 'Pole more often on a mission about this witchcraft.

And just as Alexander was about to give up on looking through this dumb piece of cardboard, he heard a sharp hiss. It sounded like the hiss the appliances in the work shop would give when they were overworked. He turned his head, ready to ask who broke the machine, and froze when he saw _Thomas._

 _What is Thomas doing?_ Alexander thought, lifting a brow in disgust when he saw the unusual emotion of confusion on his face. He noticed how his face changed just as fast, turning into shock and then understanding. Alexander also took a happy notice of Thomas having his hair up, pride flooding his chest. He had been correct all those years, Thomas did look better with his hair up. Although the lack of his usual smirk sort-of took the aesthetic away.

He saw Thomas catch eye contact with him, tilting his head in confusion and rolling his eyes when Thomas visibly tensed. He noted how the man Thomas was talking to turned around to face him, wrinkling his nose with dislike when he saw the placid expression he wore. The man turned back to Thomas, probably saying something about work or another, and left.

 _Geesh,_ Alexander thought, _that guy looks like he hasn't smiled a day in his life._

As Alexander was about to walk in the opposite direction, he froze and ran that idea through his head again. _He doesn't smile._

 _"He doesn't smile!"_ Alexander exclaimed, whirling around and came face-first into Thomas's chest when he started his dash. 

Thomas made a surprised sound, stumbling backwards and started fumbling over his words. A totally not-Thomas thing to do, but Alexander elected to ignore it and instead snapped at the man. "Thomas! Dude, you let him _go!"_

"Who?" Thomas asked, voice coming out with an unnatural accent that made Alexander reel. 

"I don't regret letting you get wrapped." Hamilton said flatly, uninterested in Thomas's games, and booked it past the man.

Oh God, what if he never found Aaron again? What if the guy decided to just go home? How would he ever find that?

Hamilton decided the best approach was to scream the guy's name the moment he saw him. It would get his attention, it had to. It always got John's attention, at least. He took an educated guess, turning to the left to the front desk and felt a sharp relief when he saw Aaron walking out the front doors.

"Hey, WAIT!" Alexander yelled, "Aaron!" 

 _"Mr. Hamilton!"_ Thomas's accent-engrossed voice snapped his attention backwards. He noted how John was beside him, looking a little more engrossed in Thomas than Alexander was comfortable seeing. He opened his mouth to snap at Thomas to get his candy-canes in order, he noted John's slight motion to the right and followed the direction. His jaw dropped when he noted Thomas-- actual Thomas, with his hair down and everything-- staring at Alexander with a small look of horror on his face.

"Oh... gumdrops." Alexander whispered, looking back to Thomas-number-two. He looked red with either anger or embarrassment for having to deal with a worker this way-- Alexander _supposed_ it was unprofessional to yell around during work hours. He knew he was going to need to deal with this, make up some lie on the spot, or face the consequences. But that wasn't even the worst part to him, honestly.

The worst part was that Alexander lost Aaron Burr.


End file.
